Two Can Play At This Game
by SpeakWhenItRains
Summary: As his character respawned for the third time, Edward's eyes flicked to the game's scoreboard. Narrowing in on that blasted username, repeating it over in his head. Miniskirtluver49. So THAT'S the way he wanted to play, huh? [Modern AU; Rated M for language and video game violence.]


Slumped in a round, armless chair, body twisted sideways with his eyes half-focused probably wasn't the best position to be playing in. He could hear Alphonse's nagging voice in the back of his mind; _sit up straight! Get that chopstick out of your mouth; you might choke, you big dummy!_

Ed just shifted the stick a little, rolling the tip with his tongue as his thumb rolled the controller's left analog stick. A quick button hold and a trigger pull was all that was needed to headshot the idiot trying to sneak up on him.

The small headset around his neck responded, releasing the squeals of a twelve-year-old boy. Curses about his mom, too.

"She's dead," Ed mumbled, mind still half-concentrated on knifing another player. More shouts about his lack of sex life came through the headset.

Ed felt something of a smile twitch onto his face. This game was just _too_ easy sometimes. He put an increment of focus into no-scoping another player, briefly glancing to the small scoreboard on the upper right corner of the massive television screen.

Two minutes left in the match; he was creaming these noobs by a landslide of eighteen points. Game, set, and match.

Holding the controller against his lap, Ed took the chopstick out of his mouth and reached behind himself, switching the stick out for the oversized cup of soda on the table beside him. His other hand took control of the game, palm shifting the aiming analog stick, the knuckle of his pointer finger pressing the button to take aim. With a press of the right trigger against his thigh and a sip of his drink, he shot yet another squeaker in the head.

A barrage of heavy curses answered him. He had _no_ clue if this noob was the same one he had just slain; he only grinned at the fact they all sounded the same. Like a massive army that clogged the servers of this dumb game.

A few minutes and a few more kills later, Ed took his focus away from the match, knowing his character was in a safe hideaway. A perfect sniping position, really. Ed reached into the large and half-empty bag of Cheetos, drawing one out with two fingers. Deciding to be acrobatic with the delivery, he rolled his index finger, balancing the puff against the last digit and nail of his middle. With his mind on the squeaker _still_ yelling at him, he flicked his best finger out as a small salute. The chip flew into the air and Ed leaned forward, opening his mouth and catching the small treat. The Cheeto was in between two teeth when he heard his character suddenly drop to the ground.

The Cheeto dropped to his lap. Who the hell even had the _nerve_ —

Large words came onto the screen. A message he hadn't seen it what felt like years. The white writing was wide and spread out, typed in an army-like font.

MINISKIRTLUVER49 HAS KILLED YOU!

Instantly he committed the name to memory, watching his character drop down a few inches after being revived to a new area in the map.

A bomb went off DIRECTLY beneath the place he had spawned; someone had planted a landmine like they'd knew he'd be there. His teeth gritted, and he swear he felt a blood vessel throbbing against his skin when those STUPID FUCKING WORDS came up on the screen again. WAY TOO BIG!

MINISKIRTLUVER49 HAS KILLED YOU!

A notification appeared at the top of the screen. New message.

 _Miniskirtluver49: How'd you like the double kill? ;)_

A fuming breath pushed itself out from between Edward's gritted teeth. He almost wanted to actually speak into the mic flipped down to his chest, but knew his voice would still be muted. The headset was for hearing frustrated cries of pain from his victims _only_. He nearly had half a mind to type back as well, but the effort would be wasted; there was absolutely no time to waste with this douchebag.

He glanced at the clock above the game's map. Minute forty left. This guy hadn't even scored half as many points as he had. What a moron. Who was he kidding, trying to one-up him like this?

There was no warning; in the middle of jumping and grabbing onto the second floor of a beaten, broken apartment building, his character dropped back to the ground. A perfectly executed headshot.

Hacking. This shithead had to be hacking. There's no way he could be pulling this kind of shit without hacking.

New notification. New message.

 _Miniskirtluver49: In case you're wondering, I'm not hacking the game. Just been practicing for a long time. Big fan :-)_

That stupid emoticon dug its stupid little face right underneath Ed's skin. He respawned again, and before he could even start moving, a sniper's bullet collapsed the body of his avatar. He watched the gun leave his hand, blood sprayed out onto the light grey concrete. And those STUPID WORDS CAME UP AGAIN!

He screamed out of pure frustration; a wordless, feral sound that ripped from his throat. One hand left the controller, clawing upright as words fled from his brain. HOW WAS THIS GUY DOING THIS?!

"B-Brother?" A meek voice sounded from the doorway, almost bringing him back to reality again. He ignored it.

Alphonse kept staring, wide eyes watching the movements of his brother's hands on that controller. He was a little bit scared, hearing that sound. Usually all that came from this room was jeering and mean laughter. He never heard his brother do anything like that before!

He kept watching, noticing some timer flash at the top of his brother's television. The one he had bought with his share of the inheritance when...

His focus snapped back, away from such sad thoughts. Ed leaned forward, almost bowing over his controller as those buttons were pressed faster than Alphonse had ever heard them be pressed. What was happening?!

Ed felt his blood boiling. Not even a minute left in this stupid game and the dick was already a few points behind him. Fuck, he hated this guy.

New message. He ignored it, but his brain still registered the words from his peripheral vision.

 _Miniskirtluver49: Don't hate the player; hate the game. ;)_

Ed finally spotted where this idiot was. He threw a grenade and immediately drew his sniper again, determined to shoot this douche's big mouth clean off his face.

He jumped to the side for good measure, and before his grenade had even _exploded_ , his character suddenly flipped face first into the ground. The dick didn't even go for a headshot; he shot Ed's _foot_.

Another shot came before he could get himself upright. A fatal bullet to the head.

Ed glanced to the scoreboard. They were tied. Ten seconds left. There was no way.

His character respawned, and Miniskirt's gamertag immediately popped up on the screen. The avatar only a yard away, name hovering in white writing flanked with colorful symbols.

Ed didn't focus on the rankings; he just drew that sniper as quickly as possible, heart skipping as Miniskirt did the same. Ed's forefinger flipped the controller's trigger down.

His breath stopped in his throat.

Their avatars fell at the exact same moment, and with the controller still in one hand, Ed grabbed his hair. Another wordless scream roared from him.

He didn't even hear the quietness of Al's question. He was fuming again, absolutely feeling like his brain was about to explode from the blood being forced into it. Good; that blood would just make him think of a way to beat this sorry, mother's-basement-dweller no life piece of shit.

The game began loading a new map, and instead of the list of twenty players, there were only two. His name, and Miniskirt's.

New message.

 _Miniskirtluver49: Good luck ;)_

His character spawned in a decent enough location. No landmines greeted his feet as he landed. Good; if they had, then this guy would definitely be cheating.

He ran to a nearby weapon's bin, scrolling past guns as quickly as possible until he stopped at the right one. He equipped it and headed to higher ground. An apartment complex that was halfway to collapsing. Laying low, he adjusted the aimer, letting the cross pattern fill his sights. He began scoping, slowly panning, wondering where this motherfucker was hiding.

His heart skipped when he saw that avatar standing in plain sight, on top of a building. Completely level with Ed. As his aimer centered on Miniskirt's head, determined to give the most perfect headshot possible, his message notifications began flooding; that sound ringing out and repeating on top of the last. A flicker of a glee touched Ed's emotions. The idiot could type all he wanted.

Miniskirt wasn't about to win this.

The gun was drawn and fired before Ed's finger could trigger the shot that would've killed Miniskirt. For a long moment—one that seemed like a small eternity—he didn't register what had happened. He didn't see how the words he hated came back on the screen, fading out only to have another, final message of defeat bleed in.

His focus, however, did come back when a new message popped up.

 _Miniskirtluver49: So close ;)_

Ed popped open the system's home screen, navigating to his messages. There were few conversation threads, mostly hate messages he only gave half a response to. A "fuck off" here, a "lmao" there. No one had bothered to really send him anything in over a month, but now forty-nine new messages from Miniskirt were lined up for him to scroll through.

When he finally reached the end of the one-sided thread and triggered the reply box open, Ed felt his heart ready to beat out of his chest. If he died, maybe then he could come back as a ghost and slam this guy's stupid cheating face into his stupid sticky keyboard.

Typing was slow and aggravating when he just used the analog stick and the 'confirm' button. He really just got even more pissed off by the time he had typed all of it out.

 _How the hell did you do that, you fucker?_

The reply came after five painstaking seconds.

 _Miniskirtluver49: And so he speaks! I told you; I've played a lot._

Ed triggered the text box again, and typed out one word.

 _Bullshit._

This time, that dickhead's response came almost instantly.

 _Miniskirtluver49: No, just skill ;)_

The pressure of his fingers wrapped around the controller's hilts was intense enough for Ed to not feel his hands. He relaxed them for a single moment, moving enough blood back into his thumbs to type out a faster reply. But even then, the letters came so slow. He was almost tempted to stand up and go find a way to hook up Alphonse's keyboard to this shitty system.

 _Bet you can't do that again. Rematch, you neanderthal_.

He almost smirked at the insult, relaxing back into his seat, left leg bent enough for the chair to hook against the groove of his foot. The reply came, and wiped away the slight amount of pride.

 _Miniskirtluver49: Hm. Perhaps another time. I find myself growing bored with this game, haven beaten the best player so easily._

No warmth came to Edward at the hidden compliment; he just gritted his teeth, a tsk firing from his mouth. This _bastard..._

 _Coward,_ Ed shot back.

 _Miniskirtluver49: Aren't the best of us? ;) Until next time :*_

This guy and his STUPID EMOTICONS!

Halfway through another intelligence-insulting reply, a small change in color caught Ed's eye. The icon next to Miniskirt's name, the one that showed his online status. It was grey.

The bastard logged off!

A pre-written system message appeared, overlaying across the reply Ed hadn't released yet. He looked away from it, knowing what the words said. How the idiot had logged out and would receive the message when he came back online.

He sent the reply anyway and leaned back into the chair again. Glaring at the screen like he would be able to find the answer of who this guy was inside the pixels.

Alphonse's voice floated to him, cracking against his concentration.

"Um, Brother?"

"Yeah?" he answered flatly, absently.

"Are... Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

A pause. "You didn't _sound_ okay. I heard screaming..."

 _That's because this guy is a_ _fucking DOUCHECANNON!_

"I'm fine, Al," Ed grumbled, twisting to slump further into his seat. He half-expected those words to come; the ones that would scold him for sitting like that and ruining his spine.

But the words never came. Ed looked over his shoulder, and something like shock sparked into the space behind his chest. The television flipped to a brighter color; a brief white loading screen as his idle cursor prompted the system menu again. But the change in light just confirmed what Ed was seeing, reinforcing how empty the doorway was. How empty this house was.

Ed almost felt something way too familiar and way too real loom inside him. He shoved the feeling back instantly, facing the brightness of the screen again and immersing himself in another game. Something different; something more violent. Something that would take him further away from reality.

The back of his mind mulled at Miniskirt's pathetic existence. He needed to take this guy down; someway, somehow.

He lowered a chainsaw into the shoulder of another person, and a double-sided waterfall of blood sprayed out, speckling his screen with gore. The arm was severed clean off, and with another press of another button, the enemy was kicked to the ground. Action-hero-kicking-down-a-door style.

Ed tried to focus on the game, focused on filling the "gore meter" as high as possible, but already he could feel his mind slipping. Thoughts wondering exactly how long it had been since he'd gotten a good night's sleep. How long it had been since he'd eaten something Alphonse would've approved of.

Before his mind could drag him down any further, Ed scrolled through the system menu, launching a mixed Pandora station. Music blared through the surround sound speakers, enveloping him in a bubble of heavy rock and pure focus.

Energy tinged his brain into working at full-speed again. He would need all the brainpower he had, if he wanted to shove Miniskirt's face into a big pile of shit like the bastard deserved.

* * *

 **A/N:** A small clarification because I know there's probably some confusion! Alphonse is unfortunately dead, and his brief POV is just Ed's subconscious pretending he's there. I honestly did not mean for this to be so sad, but y'know, the fic kind of wrote itself haha.

As always, any and all feedback is welcome! :-)


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